Though she couldn't pinpoint it she could tell very few people had worn deodorant that morning. Scorching heat aside she started with simple research by checking out the crime scenes still available. The first of which, a semi-recent occurrence, still had the bloody tire tracks on the street. Police tape fenced it all in as they remained nearby to preserve the evidence's purity. In the end, the only thing of value was seeing in person how small the tracks were.

It was the most recent one, which had happened the night previous that was good as gold. Press was on the scene reporting on the night's events and included interviews with witnesses. Eavesdropping on it she found that the temperature suddenly dropped before it arrived. Looking back on the video footage she realised people's breaths were visible. And not just that, police reported no person was seen to be driving. Again checking the footage it seemed likely based on the lack of reflected light inside. Finally, near the sidewalk curb, she found a broken piece of plastic. On it was a far too similar pink, the chipped red showing underneath.

As much as the thought scared her to confirm it, she now could be fairly certain of her opponent. Thankfully she had dropped by the hobby shop to get some exorcism stickers from Hans. "Just need to stick them to you long enough to work."

Now all she had to do was wait. Even after returning home Birch found the house empty, which is going to make it far harder to stand. Instead of letting the mixture of anticipation and boredom kill her, she drags out all the horror DVDs she had been stalling to watch. Stay Alive or Die Trying along with its surprisingly stellar sequel. Thriller Heights which is more known for its special effects rather than the movie itself. And to top the marathon off, House of the Unknowns which is as psychological as it is body horror.

Popcorn to mouth she blazed through them with only the occasional bathroom break. Dad had arrived just as the credits rolled for House of the Unknowns. Birch was hugging the pillow to the point of strangulation. Ruffling her head he joined her on the couch, putting on some horror comedy to unshake the shaken girl. In the end, the two spent the rest of their time before Mom got back. She blushed to see the two laughing at the accordion-necked villain dancing to his own song. Mother was now joined in the chorus of chuckling at the pure ridiculousness of it all.

Despite the small scolding for leaving no meat out for dinner, the woman let it go immediately. Prompted by circumstance they order in Chinese, the ginger pork being a group favourite. Shaliver did not join them which was nothing new. She would head to her room to not only get prepared for bed. Lights out she listened to the steps creak under her parent's weight. And for a time she listened above for any sign of activity. After a few hours of silence she with mouse-like stealth headed to the main level to sneak out. Locking before leaving she dashed down to what she hoped was its next target.

If not for the horrendous traffic then the number of cop cars made sure you never drove here. From the stories, her fellow peers told her it was the place to get ticketed. An officer quoted as, "Officer Dingleberries," who gets his kicks out of handing out fines like candy is posted to this street. Hamlet street at night is not normally filled with people however they're usually filled with cars headed to clubs in New Fate. Which made Birch certain it was the best place to set a trap.

Instead of sitting on the alley floor where who knows what was on the ground she perched on a ventilation duct. Just close enough from the ground to jump down but high enough to be out of sight. She spent her time on the Monster Murder Party chat board as she waited for the telltale signs.

Sudden chills. Huffing into her hand a small cloud of steam split apart as it made contact. Knew it.

Then from outside the alley, she heard a symphony of car alarms go off. Panicked voices, police sirens, the silencing of police sirens, and cheery beeps coming closer. As it screeched around the corner the trip rope caught in its tires. Bouncing down the alley it collides with a pile of trash bins and an already abused dumpster. Birch tackles the small car, taking the rope and further tying up its smoking wheels.

As she did the ground beneath her, that being the plastic car, was shifting in footing. Just as she undid the bottom film of the sticker she was similarly flung at opposing bins. Rubbing the palms of her now scrapped hands she met the eyes of the small car. Somehow it was looking at her funny. Not funny ha ha sadly.

Scrambling to her feet she bolts, rounding the opposing end of the alley, the sounds of tearing rope echo.

Street lights, car beams, silhouettes of figures were all indicators of making distance. Yet the little car was getting closer every turn. Her lungs, a burning inferno, puffed out air like a steam engine about to speed off the tracks. Glancing back, her heels nearly touched the hood of it. The back tires squeaked into high gear.

Jumping, tucking in her knees, the tyke car speeds right under her into a light post. Down another alley she runs into the street, nearly getting run over, in a desperate attempt to escape. Scraping metal, honking and terrified screams crushed hopes of that. Leg's withstanding it wouldn't be too long before she couldn't even get away.

Now tumbling down streets and alleys she could feel its coldness nearing. Slight relief for her lungs which want to collapse in on themselves. Her feet catch the curb on the opposing side of the street. As she groans to herself about this being the way she would die, horns blared. Loud horns. One's akin to vehicles carrying cargo large enough to take up at least six parking spots at a fast food establishment.

She forced her heavy head around to find a baffling sight. Clouds of smoke overtook the front of the large semi, horns still going as it did. The front bent in from hitting something. She laughed. Edging psychotic laughter that was likely heard blocks away. Tears welled up as she hugged her stomach and weak lungs. She fell backwards when wiping them away became pointless. She signed chokingly.

Something else laughed.

Birch wasn't laughing now, but something was. It was creaky, and child-like but with a much more sinister aura. Trembling, she sits up to see the smoke start to clear. Still in one piece, dented but alive.

Throwing herself up she goes down the next nearest alley, absent of life and light. Just as she did, a near-ear-bursting boom shakes the ground. Pillars of smoke clouds rose from where she was mere seconds ago. She reaches into the deepest crevices of her pocket to take out her phone. By the time she finds it her face makes first contact with brick. The tall barrier separates her from sweet freedom.

A wicked hue of orange spread across the shadowed walls. Clawing its way to her, it only gets brighter. Pressing herself against the barrier she gulps down a pointless scream.

"Beep, Beep."

A stop-motion effect come to life, from the flames of the underworld, melting ever slightly from the intense heat. Whipping her sights around for sanctuary the tyke device screams its horn as it charges.

"BEEEEEEEEEE-!"

Brick crumbles as the front impacts it at full force. What a miracle that the wall was still standing. Much like Birch who landed on its hood at just the right time. This doesn't save her from the burns on her knees, which were unlucky to land right on it as well. Without a second thought, she jumps onto the corner, climbs it like a spider, and leaps down onto the other side.

With a last burst of adrenaline she bolted, while the car attempted to crash its way past the brick saviour. Once back in her Fatemore she tiredly sprints home with more anxiety than Presely taking a math exam. Her trembling hands miraculously are able to turn the key, allowing her to not too quietly open the front door. However, knowing her parents she knew at this point they wouldn't notice. Finally back in her room; she doesn't even change. Her body slips into bed and the darkness with no resistance.

Shaliver came back the next morning to a battered and singed Birch. Smelling sweat and burnt skin she had a much more exciting night than he did. Not for the better though. She was shell shocked, fetal position on the floor. He understood the seriousness of the situation, and treated it as such.

"So you couldn't even handle a toy car." Her head slowly, wide-eyed, turned to scorch his soul. He jeered behind his paw. Birch raised her clenched fist, pinking at the knuckles. She pounces, him jumping onto her head and onto the bed. He was now in stitches as he rolled across the sheets.

"Really showed me, HA!" Birch rose from the floor, on the edge of smacking him.

"Stop that! This is really dangerous! They were on my tail for most of it." This made the faux-cat even more hysterical. Cheek flushing pink she pouted on the ground back into her fetal position.

Shaliver patted her head with his tail. "Well," he spoke between giggles, "it all starts somewhere." She gripped her bedsheets and pulled them over to herself. Shaliver slid onto the floor but remained in his humorous state.

"Whatever..."

The room dimmed, the pittering of rain tapping against her windows. Going over to the computer she starts to look into the possible identity of the killer kids car. Having the whole town be named Fatemore made it hard to specify a location. However specific incidents should be much easier to pinpoint, especially as a small town. Taking into account the model of the car and the time could also be predicted. Now for some local tragedies.

Young Girl dies in Collision, Community Weeps.

March 10, 1982

By Manny Galezzo

Today Fatemore weeps for the devastating end of Leslie Bander, dying at the age of 10. While playing with her beloved Toddler Tyke on the road she collided with oncoming traffic. Officials say she died on impact so she likely felt no pain in death. Her parents were not aware of her absence till too late. The driver was shown to have been unconscious at the wheel, unaware of how it occurred. Police say he had no alcohol in his system along with any narcotics. This is being investigated according to officials.

Birch leaned into the screen, pencil itching the words down. Is that who you are? Twirling her chair around she just saw the heartless cat now sleeping on the floor. Her nose wrinkled meanly. Going back to the screen she looked through the photos of the girl's car. Of course it's a match, dents and all. She closes the online archive and takes a short break. Cleaning up her still messy room, putting away her clothes, making her bed, and dusting all of her collectable action figures.

Shaliver didn't move once during that time. An idea comes to mind. Sneaking into the hall, she comes back with old reliable. Flipping the switch it vrooms to life. He jumps, high enough that he lands back on the bed. Birch just cockily grins as she vacuums the hair and crumbs off the rugs. Already knowing what she would say if he spoke up he chose the scowl at a safe distance.

The popcorned ceiling didn't help her discover an answer to how to stop the kiddy-sized menace. She petted Shaliver's head as she scratched her mind for answers. That car wouldn't be able to stand still enough to perform it. It would flatten me before I got the words out. Her eyes fluttered into a nearly peaceful rest. Till she heard the mechanical mechanisms of something going down her back alley. Eyes wide, she dumps Shaliver at the end of the bed and mad dashes around the house.

From the bathrooms to the kitchen she brings out the last of the bags just in time to meet the trash man. Leaning up against the back of the townhouse she watches them throw the unneeded trash into the compactor. A garbage truck could be a fitting monster if you played around with it.

The two actually have quick small talk, with him complimenting her on the tricked-out tricycle she had in the back. For stunts obviously, those flames are painted on for a reason. Once gone she goes back inside to brainstorm more ideas. The ones involving just rope were written off right away. She noted its habit of crashing and the tunnel vision it had. It was when checking the listings of the theater a plan was formed. Thank you Tim Moves.

Again she went off to grab more supplies with a far more prepared plan.

Shaliver dug his claws into the throw blanket. Scoffing under his breath, he glances over at the crisped knees of Birch's previous pants. She wouldn't mind a bit of supervision.